Broken Glass
by AtomicSoprano
Summary: ON HIATUS I suck at summaries Just Please Read . Severus is left to care for a very precious charge. Yet as it grows it begins to fall for the Dark Side to the point of destroying itself, Harry and everything that it should hold dear. Ss/Oc/Lm/Hp
1. Chapter 1: Fallen Angel

**Broken Glass**

**Warning: **Story has been mashed together and re-edited as I have plans for it. Also it flows better like this personally

This is somewhat compliant with the HP series, however if it does not I hope you understand.

**_Undergoing Renovation! Apologies Please Be Patient With Delays! Thanks You!_**

PLEASE REVIEW! All reviews are gratefully recieved

**Summary**: Snape receives a late night visit

* * *

_During the First War against Voldemort_

Severus did not appreciate being woken late at night. It unnerved him. As a child he had never slept easily, always fearing one of his parents had killed the other or that he would wake up somewhere unknown. His already unnatural sleep pattern was now under even more strain that the Dark Lord had taken him into his confidence; with every new plan he must be present in case the Order would have any information, with every new idea he must be consulted and worse, with every new prisoner, he must partake in the "fun". Any sleep he got was heaven sent, if there was such a place for him.

He slowly made his way to the door, making sure to tie up his dressing gown. He really should tidy it up at some point. It may sound trivial but a man's house is his castle and Snape's castle was currently derelict. Anyone who came over might think that Severus had had a Revel.

He opened the door.

Lily Evans lay slumped on his door step.

His throat filled with horror. He sweetheart, his angel, his Lily lay at his feet, the blood flowing freely down her arms and legs so that it formed little pools that trickled off her fingertips and toes to stain the hard unkind stone beneath her. Her sun kissed hair had lost its shine, becoming broken and unkempt. Instead of it smelling fresh and alive, various smells and odours he wished he did not know overpowered his nose so that when he tried to brush Lily's hair away from her face, he could but gag. Her clothes, if you could call the bare threads of fabric that barely covered her modesty clothes, looked as if a wild beast had blindly violated her, not caring whether her porcelain skin was broken besmirched, as long as whoever had broken his Lily had had his fun. His lower lip fell down, trying to take in his fallen angel.

He bent down slowly, gently placing her into his arms. She weighed nothing. He could feel her skeleton lift up as if about to take off to fly as hid raised her off his door step, lightly brushing her hair so she could see his face.

Her eyelids lifted.

Her lips parted.

A single breath.

A faint smile lifted his hopes for her life.

He brought her into his bedroom, setting her down on the bed as if he was a precious jewel from the Nile he had found deep beneath the mud. He considered leaving her on the sofa, not wanting to her go into a panic attack if she awoke finding herself to be in his house. Now was not the time to bring back old memories. However that idea was quickly discarded, not being able to bear the though of her rolling off and causing further damage to her already fragile state. All the while, Lily Evans did not wake, her face a mixture of pain and peace.

A pained expression washed over his face now. Albus had been told him, he had been promised since he had told him of the Prophecy that she would safe, that no harm would come to her, that no one except him would be able to find her. And now here she lay, half dead, half dying, himself wanting to die so that she would live, if just to hate him again.

He glided over to his writing desk. Grabing a leaf of parchment he scrawled down in the most illegible writing he had used in a long time:

_Albus,_

_Emergency of the highest order_

_S._

before shoving into the coal coloured owls' letter pouch and sending it off with a whack up the rear in the hope it would go faster that it had ever done so in it's life.

Now all he could do was wait.

He hated waiting.

Waiting made him nervous.

Waiting meant that it was just you and all your thoughts, alone to fight out reason and maddness.

Waiting meant his imagination looking down at Lily Evans' fading life form and imagining what had happened to her, how she might of fought off her attackers, if she was even able too. How Lily Evans may even had had to face the Dark Lord. How she would have been forced to kneel before him as he and his Death Eaters would have leered and howled in laughter as Dumbledores precious Mudblood lay before them. Maybe she would have struggled. Maybe, in Snape's blind hope, the Dark Lord would have been merciful knowing how important Lily was to Dumbledore. Then again, perhaps not. He thought to how Lily wold have had to listen to his insults and lechery and inevitable torture before pawning her off to one or several Death Eaters to ...

He couldn't bare thinking anymore. He didn't want to think want would, what must, what had happened then. He didn't want to think of his Lily being used like a Death Eaters plaything, like a piece of meat to be pawed at before she turned into the state he now saw before him. Yet that didn't stop him hearing her screa. He knew that scream. A high, piercing scream that would split your soul in two before ripping it into shreds that could never be pieced again. He could her them now, tearing at him; pained, desperate, horrified, tortured screams. Screams that made him want to stab himself, tear his hair out, drown himself, if only to stop her screaming.

"Don't think like that."

Snape looked up from his newly acquired foetal position.

Albus.

"What happened?" His voice low, his eyes full of mistrust as Severus slowly stood up before walking towards Albus.

"I found her on my doorstep," Albus ignoring him as he walking over to round the bed, observing Lily' injuries, drawing back as he looked further down her body, "I haven't yet seen to her injuries. I didn't want to wake her ... "

"You mean you didn't want to give her to anyone else," knowing the knife he would now be wedging deep into Snapes heart, his voice full of contempt.

"I swear I had nothing to do with this,"

"I hope not," not even bothering to look at him, his disgust plain enough in his voice, "Give her a Dreamless Sleeping Draft, so she can have some peace. I will call for Poppy," abandoning Snape to his Lily.

He had lost all respect he had gained in the last months. Everything he had to to prove to Dumbledore that he was no longer the man he had been before, gone. All the hard work he had put into the Order, vanished. Every plan he had personally relayed to Dumbledore to make sure that the Order and Lily would be safe and prepared, wasted time. For fear of hurting his flower he had lost the one man who could of saved him. The icy blasts of loneliness dug deeper into his skin. Not only was he about to lose the one thing that had made his life worth living about to leave him forever, but the man who could of protected him for Azkaban would be gone too.

He quickly skuttled across to his sotrecupboards and injected Lily with the draft, his hands shaking for fear of making her bleed anymore, taking care to avoid the bruises that tattooed her arm.

He started inspecting the wounds on her arms. The cuts were deep and dirty, probably made by knives or glass or animals. The bruises surrounding them almost resembled flowers, if only they hadn't been made in the madness of lust and greed. Looking up to her face, the cuts weren't too deep, although the sporadic nature of them made him nervous as too the new "games" the Death Eaters had come up with. They could be repaired quickly, as long as the infections that could be seen oozing deep inside the wounds did not rise up too quickly to prevent him from saving her once angelic face. She had lost a lot of blood, her body becoming a pale deathlike white, the only colour being the black and blue bruises that dotted her arms and face. Her neck he noticed bore the signs of rope burn, her skin coming up in welts that would take several months before they came down. Nervously he lifted up the scraps of cloth that covered her modesty and moved his eyes down to her stomach. Black and blue bruises covered every inch of her now purple, yellowy skin. Various scars could be seen across her abdomen that, in the heat of a frenzied attack, had opened up to reveal blood clotting. The insides of her thighs were enclosed in thick, crusty dried blood that held together so tightly that Snape had to pry them apart in order to see any further damage. Wiping away the falling dust of dried blood his heart plugged itself into his throat as he looked upon the various gashes, Death Eater initials and sayings and Unforgivable curses that had been engraved onto the insides of her thighs, before the blood being licked up, as it were water.

His stomach twisted and rolled up.

He couldn't bear to be in the same room. He rushed out to the bathroom in time to hurl the contents of his stomach into the toliet.

How could they do that? He knew they were all somewhat deranged and mad. He knew their Pureblood obsessions and fantasies of a pure world. But what did turning Lily Evans' body into a canvas of torture and pain to try out their new sick, perverse fixation have to do with any of it. He hurled again, his tears mixing with the insides of his stomach as he struggled to breathe, the grief of his dying love overtaking all rational control he had of himself.

"That bad?" echoed Albus' voice.

"You don't know. She's ..."

Albus stooped down by him, holding Severuses hair back as another wave of grief came over him.

"She will live Severus. I promise you."

"Didn't you promise me that before?"

The old man didn't look back at him. He couldn't answer. Although the agreement with James and Lily had been to only communicate if they were being attacked, he himself could not understand how Lily could have disappeared without his knowledge. James had said nothing, as had Sirius and Lupin. He wondered if he had made a mistake in the conditions he had made to the Potters. He dared not think how James would react when seeing the state of his wife.

* * *

Snape did not watch Poppy's inspection of Lily. He had seen enough and imagined enough without wanting to know anymore. Instead he paced his living room, the faded green carpet wearing out at a faster than normal pace as Snape listened to the sounds of Poppy gasping as she uncovered each new spate of injuries. He knew something like this might happen but he hadn't been prepared to see the full extent of what his fellow Death Eaters could do. Yet he wanted to stay. He had to be there for Lily. He had let her down enough times without fucking this one up. He couldn't let her down now. Now that it was both their lives on the line. Now that he needed her love, even though he knew the bloody Potter would come back for her and she would be leave him behind to cry for however many days before striking out.

The door opened. Snape spun round to a grave Albus, holding his breathe and praying that there was no more damage.

"She will recover."

Snape breathed in deeply again, a smile appearing on his face for the first time that whole evening, "Thank God."

"The Death Eaters did significant damage to her physically but I fear it will be mentally that they will scar her most," to which Snape looked perturbed, "I take it you saw earlier the scars to her legs and abdomen. Whatever happens she will always remember this time," before standing directly in front of Snape and whisphering in a low voice, "She's pregnant."

Silence.

The clock ticked.

The wind blew underneath the door.

Poppy could be hear to be packing away her equipment.

"What?"

"Four months. If the baby is early she will only have four to five months left. Having been in captivity for such a long period of time it's surprising ..."

"Does she know?" Snape whispered, deep with distaste and loathing.

"I would presume so. She is unlikely to be able to move for some time though. We haven't been able to make contact with James yet and it's unlikely that we will if he's as good at hiding as he has been," Snapes anger boiling up at thi comment, "I presume she will be able to stay here with you in the meanwhile?" His voice raising at the end in suspicion as to the eagerness of Snape to hold onto his flower.

Snape didn't let him down, nodding enthusiastically and bout to enter into a long speech of gratitude and pledges not to let him down ...

"In which case I will add the necessary wards and any other protection you will need and bid you goodnight."

Snape stood there a while, thinking as Albus made his way to the front door.

"Albus," the wizard turned, "Do you who the father is?"

"I do not know, and I don't intend to find out just yet. Some things are best left unopened. I think we have both seen enough pain for one night." Before turning back to the door and leaving, "You understand my boy, don't you?"

He didn't. His rational mind did but he, Severus Snape, the long time lover and admirer of Lily Evans, did not want to understand. He just wanted Lily.

A murmur from his bedroom alerted him back to the said Lily.

He rushed in. She was already tucked into his bed, her face having gained some colour as he sighed over her. Her hair had been washed and dried and was now plaited behind her as it had been in their childhood. She now had on an ivory nightgown, covering up most of the bruises on her body but leaving her face, neck and hands visible. Her face was covered with various stitches and sterostrips but her neck and hands would only heal with time. She looked in all, not quite the woman he had once known.

"Is it over?" she asked. Her voice was small; it had lost its sharpness its brightness and a hint of fear laced her words, her body tense as she noted who stood oposite her.

He nodded, moving across to her so he could hold her hand before she pulled back from him. She simply shook her head, fearing him. His heart sank, weeping atthe rejection he should of had and yet would never gain.

He stepped back, smiling weakly. Give her time, he thought. She will love you one day. Just not now.

God, would she ever love him?

"Would you like any toast?"

"Toast would nice," she said smiling back at him. She knew he wasn't party to what had happened to her but she felt he was. She felt he must have been partly responsible for her being captured or at least had known about it. He must do if was still a Death Eater and yet he had not helped or even seen her in all her long confinement. She couldn't help but feel regret that Severus could not see her without still wishing her some ill will.

He left her to herself, understandably to get the toast. But after all that time she had become her own worst enemy. All she had had to talk too for four long dark months was herself and when someone did come it was only to hear her scream. She didn't care if it was Snape and he still hated her, she just wanted someone to be with her. To make he forget the pain, the agony, the desperate desire every single day to just crawl up and die as one by one they would come in twos or threes before ...

She shook her head violently. She couldn't remember. She mustn't. All it would do would cause her more pain. She had enough pain to last her til ... well til this one came out.

She looked down at her stomach, imagining this tiny creature that must be growing inside her. She almost wished she had never agrued so passionately against abortion all those years ago. Now she understood about the right to control your own body. Of course she couldn't wish it ill will, the events around this childs conception were nothing to do with it, and yet she felt it was somewhat responsible, that she wuld never be able to escpae this never ending cycle of despair that now filled her mind. She still hadn't seen Harry yet, her pride and joy. He'd be six months old now. She wondered how he would be now, how James would have missed her, why James wasn't here yet Severus was but worse, what James would say about this.

Snape returned quickly to her with a wide assortment of tea, toast and various spreads and jams for her. She had forgotten Snape's famous pantry and the never ending feasts she had been to long ago.

"Thank you," She smiled for him. A genuine smile. A smile that said she appreciated him for everything he was trying to do.

She let him watch her at the end of the bed as she nibbled at her toast. She didn't dare have the tea for fear of burning on herself. He watched her intently. He had seen her up close before never seen her in so much detail; the way her hair fell outside her plait and lay just next to her soft, sweet face, her sharp teeth working methodically through her toast, her fingernails bitten and raw clutching onto the toast as if it was about to be snatched away, her neck pale but glistening with sweat, either from nerves or new instinct. She watched him back, smiling at his antics. She knew he loved her, he had always loved her, but never had he stared at her with such ferocity as now that it had unnerved her.

"You can stop staring now," she whispered as she put down the last crust, Snape whipping up the tray from her before heading back towards the kitchen.

"How far along am I?" she shouted out, shocking Snape. How did she know? Of course she'd know, why was he being so stupid.

"Four months," a waver in his voice.

"Only four?" the sun returning to her voice. He chuckled at her.

She would return. And she would love him. She would. She had too.


	2. Chapter 2: Feelings

**Summary**: Lily's conditions slowly improves

PLEASE REVIEW!!! All Reviews are great :p

* * *

For the next few days Snape and Lily stayed apart except for meal times where Snape would watch Lily's recovery or she would ask him about his potions. They never mentioned James or Harry. Lily had cried in the night after she had asked him about them and he had said he didn't know. He had hated himself for that. He should of thought about that. He should of realised she would ask about them, stupid man. He couldn't bare thinking that she would have to leave him to back to Potter. He wanted her here with him where he could watch over her. He'd been very strict on what potions she took and when. She'd been so weak when she first came. He'd been surprised she hadn't miscarried.

Albus visited regularly. There was still no news on James or Harry and it was clearly wrong with him. Albus would arrive late at night looking like he hadn't slept for days. He was worried for the prophecy. Worried Voldemort would gain the upper hand.

Lily hadn't slept much either. She was gaining weight and the colour was returning to her cheeks but the dark shadows were still under her eyes. She worried about Harry and James. She hadn't seen them in months. She missed them. James' silly games and bad cooking. His warm embraces and long Sunday afternoons in bed with him. The thought that she was at least safe with him and Harry and loved dearly.

She'd been awake most of the night. She started venturing round the house now, reading the various books on potions, herbs and other forms of magic. She was surprised by some of the things he read; pagan magic, the history of its creation even magic in different countries. The pictures were wonderful, the bright colours jumping out off the page, the people smiling back at her. She could never get used to that. She'd seen pictures wave to her a dozen times and every time it surprised her.

She was searching through a book on recovery potions. She knew Snape's feelings for her. She knew he'd keep her away from James if he could. She needed James though. She cared for Snape deeply; he was a good friend to her, a true dear friend but a friend none the less. She was giving up again on ever finding anything when her stomach hit itself. No.

"Severus!" She was six months down the line. It could be doing anything for all she knew.

"What?" He'd rushed in, his face terrified.

"It's kicking," clutching onto the desk.

He sighed. Thank God it's coming. He was almost relieved 'til a hand grabbed his.

"Come on," she smiled, placing his hand on her belly. It was warm. He wasn't sure what he was meant to feel. He imagined what it would look like if Albus came now; him hunched down hand on Lily's stomach with her only just standing.

A small powerful thud vibrated up his arm. He turned to her amazed at the power of something so small could have so much power.

She beamed back at him. He may not be married but he would at least have something happy in his life.

She loved meddling.

Like husband like wife.

*************************************

Lily was slowly tiring of her confinement. She had now recovered to a healthy state but Snape still wouldn't tell her about James or Harry. She worried he might just be keeping her for his own fantasies. Snape had tried things before when they were young. He'd hold the door for her but stand so close she would have to brush against his body. She'd feel every muscle and ripple in his body, his greasy hair and hot breathe on her. It scared her knowing she may never leave, that she'd be some toy for Snape, a doll for him to admire and care for. It made her sick just thinking about it.

She felt like that a lot nowadays. Partly because she was eight months gone, partly because the idea of Snape touching her the way James touched her repulsed her. James was kind. He never pushed her; he played with her but never hurt her. Snape would just stare at her. She felt like an object to him. For all his goodness and kindness there was something deep, something dark and sinister she didn't want to know.

She sat in the bedroom staring round. She knew every step possible in this room. Every view point. Every angle. She was amazed the carpet had lasted all her pacing.

She looked down at her bump. She had been nervous with Harry's birth, she'd been terrified but now she didn't know what to feel. She didn't know who it's father was or if she was even going to keep the it. So scared. That's all she could think. I'm scared. Scared I don't know what this baby is going to turn into. What if I die? How do I know they put a monster in me and I'll die giving birth to this thing?

She fell to the floor, tears bubbling out of her like some petulant child.

Snape strode in, shocked at the scene. He had thought Lily to be stronger. She'd experienced worse. She had him by him. Albus merely watched.

"Lily, can you stand up?" Snape asked.

"We've found James." Lily looked up, her eyes innocent as she gazed at Albus.

"Please don't lie to me,"

"I take a habit not to lie when women are crying," he said, stooping down to her level as she wiped her eyes. "Severus where are your manners?"

"Oh of course," bumbled Snape, handing her his handkerchief.

"Thank you,"

"Lily, James is going to come here tonight. He's going to take you home. Harry's there as we speak. We've moved where you're hiding but that main is ..."

"Does he know?"

"Know what?" Before looking down to her bump. "No,"

"Ahhh!" Snape shot Albus a look. Why is a man who's meant to be the greatest wizard of the age so stupid?

"AHHHHHHHH!" Lily was screaming now, grabbing onto Snape's arm, the pain unbearable. It couldn't be coming now. Not now. Not now!

Snape looked down to the carpet.

"Oh God,"

"Oh God,"

Snape whipped his head round.

James.


	3. Chapter 3: Partings

**Summary**: James and Snape are forced to settle their differences

REVIEWS ARE NEEDED!!!!

* * *

Lily's screams echoed across the house. Outside Snape and James were waiting. Snape didn't like it. Didn't like not knowing what was going on to her. He kept hearing screams and shouts but that had been going on for hours. Surely it should be over before. He started pacing the door, trying to hear out for anything, anything at all.

"Haven't been to many births have you?"

He whipped his head back round to James. He sat simply. Calmly. Without pride or shame. His clothes were grubby and he hadn't washed in days but he was still the arrogant toe-rag he had always been. How could he be so calm, so ... empty.

"It's not mine, is it?" James didn't even look at him. Snape shook his head.

"Thought as much. Unless sperm can fly long distance, huh?" He tried laughing. It couldn't come out. James had spent months and months waiting for her, wanting to see her eyes, hear her laugh. Instead it was tears and cries. He wanted to hold her, wanted to be with her. He'd been there with Harry, had his arm ripped from his shoulder, the insults, the slap but also the joy, the amazement, the sheer wonder that was their son. Now he couldn't even be insulted.

"Who did it?" His voice breaking.

"We don't know,"

"What you and Dumbledore, together again. Is that how it always will be? Because it doesn't work very well does it,"

"What are you saying?" Snape growled.

James stood up, hands fumbling with in his pockets, trying not to hit Snape there and then. "I've lost my wife for eight months. For eight months I've wondered whether she was dead or not or who would care for Harry or will I even get to see her dead body. For eight months I've been running and running to stay alive and now, I come here and find my wife pregnant giving birth to some other mans child and you don't even know who the father is. She's going to find out anyway. Just tell me this, did you even try to find out?"

Snape shook his head.

"And did Dumbledore tell you not to?"

A nod.

The door opened. Both men suddenly looked up, their eyes half fearful half full of joy. Poppy's head appeared.

"James,"

He stormed off leaving Snape alone.

He hated himself. Hated himself for always following orders. James was right (stupid git). He should of found out the father and then killed him. Killed the baby. What was she going to do with it, give it to an orphanage? Leave it with some unsuspecting relative? Why had she not died? That way it would have been simple and easy and they wouldn't be in all this mess. He hit his fists against the wall, forgetting the poor building work and hitting his hand through the wall, the knuckles gently bleeding. He wanted to cry. Cry for forgiveness. Cry for stupidity of being weak.

"Severus?"

Albus looked out from the doorway. He knew of Snape's love for Lily. He always had. They'd been friends forever and he'd always been on the outside, hoping for something more to be disappointed every time. He put his arm around him, Snape's shoulders shaking with rage.

"Why didn't we kill it?"

"Because then we would be hurting her more. She wants to see you,"

He saw a beautiful baby. A small mass of laughter and tears and a sleeping baby. James was sitting by Lily, his arms round her (precocious git). Lily looked wasted. Worse than all those months ago. He wanted to smile. He wanted to congratulate her. But he couldn't. He could just sneer.

"Lily and James have decided to leave the child ..."

"There's a surprise,"

"With you."

Snape backed out, looking from baby to Albus and then baby to Lily.

"You can't be serious?"

"Quite so."

"I can't do it," Lily's face falling. "I can't take on a child when I am serving both sides. It isn't feasible. It isn't right."

"So Petunia will just take her then," Lily snapped.

"I didn't mean ...."

"Sirius can't take her and neither can Lupin. I need to know she's safe. Please."

He just shook his head. He didn't want her. He didn't need another pressure another obligation. He just wanted to end this war and be alone. He wanted to Lily not a by-product of rape.

James came over to him.

"Severus," crossing his arms and whispering so Lily couldn't hear, "I know we don't get on but please, for her. She needs to know if we die someone can take good care of her. Someone who knows us and will love her. Someone she can trust."

He looked over to Lily, her eyes pleading with him.

"Will you do it?"

"Yes."

***********************

Snape merely watched. Watched James hold the child close to them, playing with its little tuffs of hair before handing it to Lily. Watched as Lily placed her gently down in the cradle Dumbledore had summoned for Severus. Watched as she cooed gently, her head next to the child's, whispering something into her ear. Single tear dropped down her face.

"Thank you Severus,"

Albus stood next to him, observing the scene before him.

"You do know of course I know nothing about babies and what do to with them," his voice full of that matter-of-fact tone Dumbledore couldn't stand.

"If that is the case I'd better arrange better care for the child elsewhere,"

He enjoyed seeing Snape's jaw drop, "I mean ..."

"You'll learn. All parents have to," a sad kind of twinkle in his eye.

"What if I drop her or she won't sleep?"

"I'm glad she now has a gender,"

"Please," annoyed at Dumbledore's continual belief all would be good. How could it be? He was going to be caring for a rape child by the woman he loved.

He turned back to Lily. She was putting something into the child's hand. A final kiss on the child's head was the final straw.

A torrent of tears spilled silently down her face. It was scarier silent. He couldn't tell whether she was happy or sad, afraid or comforted, alone but safe. Her hands were shaking as James pulled her up, knowing she would never willingly leave her child. She felt terrible, the guilt rushing all over her. She wanted to hold the child close to her and never let go. She dreamed of being able to go home with James and the child to Harry and living without fear. She wanted to watch her wake, at least see her laugh, cry, gurgle, even burp. Wanted to be normal.

She walked over to Severus, James guiding her over, his hands on her waist.

"I'll see you outside," leaving Lily with Severus.

Suddenly it was dawning on him. He was going to be a father. A real father. Not a biological one but spiritually a father. Oh Christ what was he letting himself into.

"I was wondering if you could call her Anne. It means ... well, James always wanted a girl and we said if Harry was a girl we'd call him Anne."

Snape merely nodded. She smiled back; the tears brushing bash the sides of her mouth. She threw herself on him.

"I know you'll be a wonderful father."

He wasn't quite sure anymore. He knew he had to woman of his dreams on him. He returned the hug, a strange kind of warmth washing over him, as if the world had suddenly painted itself it ambers and gold.

He held on as long as he could before Lily pulled back, he face touching his. He so wanted to reach out and kiss her.

"Thank you."

She drew back, her fingers still reaching for him. A knock on the door reawakened them of their surroundings, or reality.

She left him, Her arm around James and they drove off. Albus simply chuckled as he walked off before apparating. Everyone left him after a while. He was used to it.

He didn't quite feel ready to go back into the bedroom. Instead he grabbed a large Firewhiskey a left for his library. He like being alone with thoughts at night. Somehow it was comforting knowing they wouldn't hurt him. He could just sit and read and no one would hurt him.

Except the cry of a baby.

His blood boiled. He had only had five minutes alone with this thing and already it was crying.

He stormed into the bedroom, the baby crying erupting into a scream.

"Please shut up." He stood above it. He had hated babies crying. He had never understood what was so appealing about them when they made so much mess and annoyed the crap out of everyone.

He put his arms down to pick it up but instead it bawled like a banshee, kicking it's little legs.

"Fine. Stay there," moving over to his bed and downing the Firewhiskey in one. It didn't stop.

"Shut UP!" He was almost begging it now. It was rocking the cradle so violently he felt it would fall over at any minute.

"Fine!" He went over, snatching it out of the cradle, still holding it at arm's length. It looked at him. Not in the normal way of being cute and cuddly but frumpy and annoyed he'd taken so long. "Now will you be quite?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Obviously not." This was getting embarrassing. Severus Snape, the Potions Master who scared every single person and student within in an inch of their lives was being terrified by a baby.

"Hush little baby don't you cry," swiping it from side to side, the cries increasing in volume, "Dada's gonna buy you a mocking bird." It started looking at him. Keep going, "If that mocking bird won't sing, Dada's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

IT WAS WORKING! How could he ever doubt his genius?

He kept singing to it, it's eyes slowly dropping, it's legs giving one last burst of energy before dangling in the air. He gently laid it in it's cradle.

He noticed a small glean of silver. He picked it up. On a silver chain was a locket. He opened it up. _Always Dream, I'm Never Far Behind_.

He smiled. Just like Lily to do something like this. Anne's name was even written inside: _Anne Evans_. There was still room for a middle name. Think of something pretty. Something sweet. _Rose_. He took his wand and charmed the name into the space left for him. Anne Rose Evans. Perfect.

He'd never called it by its name. It seemed odd. Now it was almost as if it was a person, not just a belonging of his.

"Severus?"

A voice purred from outside.

Shit.

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THIS IS NOT THE END!!!! Anne still has to grow up.

_**Please Review!!!! There are lots of you reading this I KNOW!!!! SO what do you think. Be honest (within limits)**_


	4. Chapter 4: Distractions

**Summary**: Lucius drops in on Snape

_**Warning: I will not be writing the next chapters until I get some more reviews. I Really want to know what you think!!!!**_

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Throwing the locket inside this robe, he locked the bedroom. Please don't wake up now. If you know anything, for your own good don't wake up.

He was never fond of Lucius' visits. They were a necessary as he was also a Death Eater but Lucius had a tendency to air his views on anything at any time.

He brushed his hair back before opening the door, nervous. He may be a good spy but he wasn't a great liar.

"Severus, do I have to scream your name before you open the door?"

"Sorry Lucius." He didn't even bother inviting Lucius in; he did it on his own accord. Lucius himself was never fond of his visits to Snape's but duty comes first and he was an old friend. Even someone like Severus deserved little bit of company now and then.

"I understand the Potters have been relocated," settling himself on the sofa. "Amazing how fast Dumbledore's becoming."

"Indeed,"

Lucius stopped. He noticed the unkempt hair, the wrinkled robes, the smell of Firewhiskey.

"Severus,"

"Yes," Severus turning with more drink in his hands. He too was nervous of his appearance.

"You haven't had a woman here, have you?"

"Why?" His voice becoming deep and cynical. He watched Lucius leap up before pacing. He often did that before coming up with an idea, often a very stupid one.

"The Mudblood was here, wasn't she?" Snape's guilt growing with the word, "That's what all is about isn't it?"

"Do you think I would be here if she had been here?"

"You're not answering my question," Lucius now actively searching the room. God if he found Anne ....

"Are you sure you haven't drunk enough Elf Mead?" Snape moving round carefully, as if a bomb would go off if he made too much noise. Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up.

Lucius was making a right pigs mess. The kitchen was a complete shambles; cutlery thrown all over the floor, cupboards ripped open. He seemed desperate to find something, anything incriminating. He hated being in Severus' shadow. He hated being in anyone's shadow but Severus had the knack of getting everything right at all the important moments. He just needed one thing. One tiny insignificant thing.

He stopped.

A moan cam through the kitchen. Snape froze, his insides twisting themselves. Why? Lucius looked up, the excitement firing up in his eyes.

He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. He made his way to Severus' bedroom. He shook the doorknob, his eyes ablaze. At last, a chance to show what Severus really was. Violence failing, he cursed to door down, a scream from inside growing. Severus felt for the locket. Thank God it was in his pocket. He looked nervously round his room, dust covering every surface.

He watched Lucius tower above the cradle before dangling Anne in the air, the child creaming at the top of her lungs, kicking helplessly.

"Well, well Severus. Who's brat is this now? One of Dumbledore's half-breed friends. I do hope you put it out of its misery," sneering at Anne as he turned her upside down, ignoring the bawling child. He didn't care what or whose it was. It was already dead.

Severus shook with fear. If Lucius found out Anne's mother she'd be dead and him shortly afterwards. If he lied he'd only be delaying. Confusion ripped through his body. He didn't want to lose the only part of Lily he had.

"She was abandoned outside Hogwarts. The Headmaster asked me to care for her in Poppy's absence,"

"And then the brat dies." Lucius highly doubted the truth in this. Severus had a habit of always having an excuse when he needed one.

"The brat will then return to Hogwarts. The Headmaster has a soft spot for small children," his eyes never leaving Anne. She was staring at him. She almost knew what he was doing, her eyes never leaving his.

Lucius snorted. He knew it would unwise to upset Dumbledore. The man still had a lot of power. Narcissa would kill him if Draco couldn't attend Hogwarts and he still had no evidence the child wasn't some scum-of-the-earth Mudblood. He'd seen Snape angry only once and he had no intention on seeing it twice.

He pointed his wand down to the cradle, Anne falling down with it. He took once last look at it. He hated crying babies. They never shut up. They just whined the whole time. He noticed it's eyes; pale blue, so pale they could almost be silver.

"I'll be on my way now," not even looking at Severus, his face burning with rage.

"I think that would be best," Snape growled.

He turned back to Anne, not even addressing Lucius' departure. She was still crying but silently. Even worse than audible crying. He knelt down next to her cot. She was rolled up, a tight ball, her body shaking with fear. He put his hand onto her back, soothing her worries.

He stayed there the whole night. He didn't want to leave her. He just watched her the whole evening. She was so small. So delicate so that if he dropped her she would shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. He tried stand up. He couldn't. He tugged away. She was holding onto his finger, a grip of steel.

He smiled.

What else could he do?


	5. Chapter 5: Appearances

**Summary**: Anne starts Hogwarts

Thanks for all the reviews I've been getting : ) Keep it up guys It's great to hear what you think

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_Eleven years later_

Snape was not fond of Muggle cars. He'd refused to get a Muggle taxi or Dumbledore's offer for Hagrid to take her. He wouldn't dare let that bumbling idiot excuse of a giant near his daughter on one his disgusting contraptions.

He looked across at her. Her dark red hair flowing down, her pale eyes, the nervous smile that had stuck resolutely on her face since she'd received the owl. That hadn't, unfortunately, stopped the late nights, the constant babble of noise and questions that would never end.

In one way he didn't mind. He hadn't seen her much over the last few years. He hadn't, much to Dumbledore's disapproval, kept her with him as he would o preferred. Instead a variety of muggle boarding schools and institutions had served as Anne's home for the past few years. He hadn't like this and she certainly did not judging by the reports and numerous expulsions she'd had, every one being worse and worse; from rudeness to teachers to destroying school property. At least here he could keep an eye on her.

On the other hand it now meant he'd see her every day, something he had not looked forward to. She would no longer be Anne, his disobedient almost dangerous daughter but Miss Evans, student at ....

He shuddered, the car suddenly swerving.

"DAD! Road! Please," glaring at him. She hated him driving. He was truly awful. He speed whenever he could and insulted everyone around him, mainly by calling them, "Peasant!" which though original always made her think, "Pheasant!"

Snape still couldn't think of her of her still. He tried. He still cried at night when he thought of her. He'd cried incessantly when Albus had told him that dark day; his hands wringing, his shoulders shaking, the pain. The nagging, all knowing, constant agony that was him knowing he had brought her downfall. He already hated the boy for living and her not. He'd shut himself up for months on end, ignoring Anne's cries for food or changes, feeding her only misery and despair that had been his life for the past eleven years.

"Dad?"

She put her hand on the steering wheel, her hand on top of his. She really hated him driving. Her left hand seemed stuck on the door handle, terrified he would crash ... again.

She turned to look out the window. She loved watching the traffic around her, all the different cars and people. She always wondered what their stories were; where they lived, what they did, who they loved, who they loathed. It was the sense of freedom she loved the most. The freedom of being able to wander around where she wanted whenever she wanted with no rules or punishments.

She learnt back in her seat. She looked up.

Kings Cross Station.

The car slowed down, nerves kicking in. She hated being nervous (there were many things she hated). She always felt slightly sick, like her stomach was falling in on itself.

"You'll be alright,"

He watched her face; stern, holing fast, emotionless. He could never tell her thoughts at that point, never sure whether he wanted to or not.

She looked down at herself; her faded t-shirt, torn jeans, scuffed trainers, her silver locket the only thing that shined about her.

"You'll be fine. Do you want me to come with you to the Platform?"

She stared back indignantly, "You showed me yesterday. I think I can remember what happened yesterday thank you."

She started to move out of the car, her arms unable to cope with her luggage, slamming the door as she pulled out the last case.

The station somehow seemed different that day. Hundreds more people were there and they all seemed much much taller and much much scarier to her. She tried pushing her way forward, searching desperately for the platform. Everyone seemed to circle her as she started walking to the platform, following a red headed group of boys.

Her locket suddenly started glowing, bouncing up and down against her chest. She looked down nervously. Whenever it did that, things always went wrong.

Running at full speed, fearing she'd miss the train she ran head long into something.

She gazed up.

A figure glad in black with a black cane and silver head to it glared down on her.

"Can I help you?" taking in every detail of her face.

"I'm sorry, no, thank you," trying to move past him. She stepped forward to see a cane thrust in front of her, blocking her way. She was sure she was going to miss it. Where were those gingers?

"Do I, know you?"

"No,"

"Father,"

The man looked behind to see his son. Uninterested he turned back to the girl.

Gone. "Father?"

Panicking now, Anne dived into the crowd, no idea where she was going. Bumping into people, pushing past strangers, she ran, scared, frightened, terrified she'd ruin her one chance, her last chance her only chance to be free.

She found them. They were all assembled outside the gateway, each one going in individually. A plump woman looked up at her.

"Are you alright dear?"

"Is this ..."

"Oh yes dear, Platform 9 3/4. You follow George or whichever one of them it is,"

Ella looked at the lanky boy running into the wall.

Taking a deep breath, she moved into position, closed her eyes, checked her locket was still on her, regretted hitting it so hard, and ran into the Platform 9 ¾

Awe overwhelmed her. Hundreds of students, some her age, some older, were all there standing on the platform, the same platform she was on. The same platform her father must have once been on and her mother ....

Let's just say she didn't like thinking about her mother. She'd searched all over the house for some clue of her; who she was, where she lived, why she lived. Everytime she even mentioned her her father simply froze and walked out, snapping at her for hours on end. She hated not knowing someone so important to her, someone how made her who made who she was, what she did, her every action related to her.

She'd found one thing. A photograph, the only photograph, with a woman in it. She had red hair too, much brighter than hers, but she wasn't standing next to her father. She was on one side next to some scrubby boy with glasses and her father on the other side, looking wonderfully miserable. He'd glance over to her occasionally, she'd never look at him. She somehow felt sorry for him. She might not even be her mother but she was the only woman in any photograph that looked remotely like her.

She started to make her way onto the train. It was the tightest squeeze trying to get on. Everyone's mothers or fathers or brothers or sisters were all on the platform too, sending them off, wishing them luck. She felt very alone for once. She knew her dad would be there at school but that was different. He'd be teaching her. She'd be able to actually go round the castle without being guarded in case she did anything. She'd have some form of freedom. And God she looked forward to it.

There were plenty of empty compartments. She went at sat down at the far end of the train, not wanting someone to pity her. She rather liked being on her own. It somehow made her feel very grown up. She was already dressed in her robes, dreading the sorting ceremony. She'd watched it once, peeking out from behind the teachers table. She dreaded being called out in front of the whole school. Dreaded falling over or going to the wrong table or ... well anything that could and would go wrong.

Knock Knock.

"Excuse me, is anyone else in here?"

A small boy her own age with black hair scruffed up everywhere and glasses that didn't quite sit right on his nose stood to the door.

"Sure,"

She watched him sit down. She was curious. He didn't seem cocky or arrogant enough not to be with his parents and he didn't seem smart enough to sneak off without being noticed. He sat, not sure where to look.

"Do I get to know your name?" the whistle going off in the distance.

"Harry Potter. Yours?"

"Anne Evans,"

They both stared at each other. Neither were quite sure what to make of the other. She smiled at him. His face broke into a smile. She couldn't on to it much longer, bursting out into laughter.

He eyed her, not quite sure what to make of her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Brilliant!"

They sat there most of the journey, looking out the window, both lost in their own thoughts. It was strange. She didn't know this boy yet she somehow felt connected to him, as her was a part of her life to come.

Sooner or later another boy joined them, one of the ginger ones she'd seen earlier before a bushy haired brunette girl came as well. He too was grubby, she already dressed in her robes, talking at a very fast pact about all the books she'd read, him telling them about the teachers, the castle, the houses, the ghosts.

Somehow, everything felt right. She was on a train with people she liked who she could talk to and not feel inferior or like she didn't belong there. She felt warm inside. She had people her own age she could talk to, people she could laugh with, talk with, spend time with, be herself.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end.

"So it's true,"

The same blonde boy Anne had seen earlier was there again, his hair slicked back even more than before.

They looked back at him, all tensing up as he smiled rather sickly back at them.

"The famous Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts,"

She turned back to Harry. His face was completely straight, not liking this strange slightly creepy child in front of them.

They boy was now walking into the carriage, putting his hand forward to Harry, "Draco Malfoy. I'm surprised you're sitting with this riff raff," looking down at Ron and Hermione. He stopped at Anne, her breathing becoming uneasy. "What are you staring at?"

"Your fat head,"

"How dare you!"

"Quite easily actually," enjoying herself.

He walked up to her, practically stalking her like some prey on the Serengeti. He waited, his face in front of hers, his eyes meeting hers, the hatred raging out of them.

Spit.

She couldn't hold it. She didn't realise.

Lights burst out of her, spilling over every corner in the compartment, shattering the glass window so the wind blew harshly into the carriage. Everyone hit the floor, Anne falling a second later than the others, blood trickling down the right hand side of her face. All their eyes stayed on the floor. She tried to control herself but it wouldn't stop. Light blinded her eyes. Further down the train glass could be heard smashing and students screaming, panic gripping the train. She reared her head up. Her hair was darkening, blackening from the roots down, her face draining of blood, her arms outstretched as being crucified. She could picture her insides being twisted into a knot inside her as she doubled over, gasping for air. Tears escaped her eyes. Why did it always happen? Why did he have to do that? Why did she have to do this? She whirled round, lifting the train of the trains for a moment before landing it again.

Harry lifted his head up to her. Whatever was happening to her was definitely not good. He tried reaching a hand out to her before pulling it back. He could feel the glow of fire burning.

"ANNE!"

She couldn't hear him. She was screaming now, a harpies cry the deafened him.

"ANNE! PLEASE!"

She turned to him. So quiet, so strong, so defiant in the face of her horror. It calmed her, washing over her, cooling down her heat. She floated down onto the seat before slumping over.

Harry moved over to her. He noticed her locket was still glowing red hot.

None of them spoke for the rest of the journey. One of the teachers on board had mended the glass and was seeing to the other students for shock but none of them spoke to her. No one even looked at her. They were too scared. She'd almost killed them. They just watched her sleep, tears still seeping out of her eyes.

She didn't look at them either. The shame. The sheer stupid shame of letting loose for something so stupid. She was doomed. She knew it. She'd been so excited that finally she'd be somewhere where she would actually share something with other people instead of being the freak show who ended up on roof's and ceilings. Now she would arrive at the platform, her father would be told and she would be sent straight back to some grotty old boarding school in the middle of nowhere.

She lifted her head up.

Hogsmead Station.

Her one and only look at it.

She waited for everyone else to leave before lifting her suitcase out of the rack and making the seemingly long journey off the train.

It was like Kings Cross over again. Hundreds of heads were bobbing across the platform. A tall giant was standing at one end shouting for first years to come over to him. She wondered whether she would even get to say a word to him, whether he would care she nearly destroyed an entire train full of students.

She started moving over to him, ignoring the stares at her, the whispers that passed by her, the small but considerable distance people kept away from her as she eventually stood in front of the giant.

A thin spindly woman came over now with emerald robes and a tall witches hat.

"Miss Evans?"

"Yes?"

The woman looked down at her, an eye of concern and fear flashing before Anne.

"Follow me please."

So this was it. What she had waited for so many years since she had first learned of Hogwarts was over. She sat next to the woman as she travelled up the hill to the castle where no doubt her father would be waiting for her. She looked out the window of the carriage, soaking up every detail she could see; the willow tree next to the lake, the pumpkin patch by a crumbling cottage, the greenhouses with its inhabitants sneaking out of every available space, the huge imposing towers of the castle looming over her.

She jumped down from the carriage (she had too, it was far too big a leap for her to simply step down from) before looking up.

He was there. He had to be, looking as miserable as ever. The familiar look of disappointment and disgust in his eyes as she walked past him, still following the woman from the station. She could feel his eyes watching her, she could ... wait a minute ... she could see him striding past her as he joined the woman ahead of her.

"Surely we can just send her back?"

"Professor Dumbledore would like a word with her," as they stopped before a huge stone bird thing.

"Sherbet Lemon,"

There were definitely some things she was going to miss she thought to herself as she followed her father up the stone stairs now revealed to her to an oak wooden door. She stopped to look at the woman, not trusting herself to look at her father.

"You can go in now,"


	6. Chapter 6: Decisions

**Summary**: Anne faces her future

REVIEWS ARE WELCOME

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The room, if that's what it was, was immense. Almost like out of a dream or those images of damsels in distress' castles. Everything seemed in the perfect place, the desk, the chairs, the bookcases, the portraits with ... people _moving_ in them, the bird. This amazing bird with red and gold plumage and feathers gleaming as if they were on fire. God she'd miss this.

"Good evening Miss Evans,"

She stared up, slightly terrified.

A tall old man in a dressing gown, that's what it looked like, with a long beard dropping down to some silly length. He seemed almost calm, not calm as her father had been but calm relaxed.

"I see," he said, making his way down the stairs to meet her at his desk, "that you are already making an impression on the staff and pupils," waiting for her to reply, clearly amused at her stricken face.

"I'm really sorry sir, I didn't mean to do it, honestly, it just ... sort of happened."

"Quite so," What? "This is an emotional time for you I am sure," before sitting himself down. He seemed to have the impression of some of immense years and knowledge, as if he'd seen thousands of stars and galaxies pass him by.

"But," directing a stern and a hint of worry in his eye, "you must learn to control your emotions." How did he know what that boy had said? "It is too dangerous for someone so young to be able to create such damage. We are leaving troubled times. Do not risk yourself for something so trivial."

He didn't know. Well he did but not the difficulty, the horrible feeling every time she knew she was going to fire up, sometimes literally, and knew she couldn't stop herself, that she'd let herself go too far once again and once again she'd be punished and segregated and pushed aside until whichever school she was at could find a way to get rid of her.

"I'm sorry."

He looked back at her. She was so different now, quite understandably too. He could see the vivacity, the fire, the light, the spark in her that was her mother. He tried to search deeper in her. Darkness. Deep unremitting darkness that hung over her and clouded over her better self.

"Miss Evans I would like you to see Madam Pomfrey every morning for the next two weeks, if you would please,"

"Do you think you can ...."

"I give you no promises. But I will try."

"Thank you sir." She was still safe. She was still free except for the mornings but other than that she was free.

She traipsed off, over the moon that she was not being chastised for something she could do nothing about.

She followed the tall lady back to the others in her year. She saw the girl and two boys she'd shared the compartment earlier. She smiled and them, mouthing "I'm sorry," desperately hoping they'd understand. She waited, that terrifying moment where her fate as person with friends or loser was to be decided. Please smile, please nod, please say yes, please be nice, please be nice, please be nice, please dear lord don't hate me. The girl and ginger boy smiled while the one with glasses winked at her.

Anne was too far back to hear exactly what was going to happen. She guessed it was some king of introduction thing, being introduced to the school, the older ones asked to be nice and not to bully them (which was so going to happen). She was quite expecting a humongous filled with pupils at every seat with a ceiling sprinkled with stars and comets flying above them. She would of stopped and stared for hours if she could, naming each one of them, giving them stories and lives, where they'd been, who they'd seen, what they planned to do before realising a) they were not human and b) if she didn't move she'd be run over by other first years.

It seemed strange being in a room with her father at the other end. He didn't seem quite as evil as normal, more trying too hard to be hated. He needn't worry. By the look on the staff's faces sitting next to him he already was.

He stared back at her as she crowded at the back of huddle of first years. He almost wanted her in Slytherin. He could keep an eye on her, actually be with her. Gryffindor would mean her falling away from him. She'd never want to associate with again, if she even did.

"Anne Evans,"

She started making her way forward to the platform, the whispers echoing through the hall, the staff edging forward on their chairs.

"Well, tricky tricky. Very tricky. Talent and brains for sure but something else entirely here ..." muttered the Sorting Hat, clearly enjoying the suspense

"Is that bad?" she thought, guessing the Hat could hear.

"Nervous are we? You should be. Still there is something in here,"

"Hey I have feelings!" annoyed it could be so discerning about her.

"Snappy aren't we?"

"I do have a name," students already clinging onto their tables and chairs.

"Better be .... GRYFFINDOR!"

YESSSSS!!!!

She jumped off the platform, delighted she was free of her father. She sat down at the table with the other Gryffindors before looking up at his expression.

He was not amused. Far from it. He had sort of expected it in a way. Deep down he'd hoped she wasn't going to turn into what he had but he still wanted her. She was his daughter. He should decide where she was placed. He looked up to Albus. He was quietly clapping, a small smile across his lips.

He was the only one. No one had really given Anne the applause normally expected from the Gryffindor table. Every other house was glad they hadn't got someone so extreme in their house. They were all after one person.

By the end of the evening everyone was placed and full of food. The group Anne had sat with on the train had all ended up in Gryffindor and all talking to her again, even if they were the only ones. She didn't care. People were talking to her. They might not be saying much but they were talking to her.

If only it was that simple. She didn't meet the other boy the rest of the evening but she knew it wouldn't last. She'd have to see him again and when she did she knew she was going to pay.

She tried to ignore it but it was impossible. There was still a gap between her and the people around her, there was still the whispering, the rumours, the fear. That was the worst. How people would never even look at her or even touch her. She wouldn't be able to borrow anything or help anyone. She'd be alone. What was worse was she was used to it. But it still hurt.

She tried to go to sleep. The bed was warm, she was safe but she someone couldn't help noticing that out of all the girls in her room, only she didn't have a picture of her family or any kind of memento.

At the same time a boy with scruffy hair, glasses and a lightning scar on his forehead was facing the same dilemma.


	7. Chapter 7: New Experiences

**Summary**: Anne's lessons and reputation begins

Longer but more fun.

REVIEWERS WILL BE LOVED FOREVER!!!

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_It was cold and dark, like a graveyard. A cauldron stood in the middle, blood bubbling up inside in. Sparks were flying off it like electricity. Suddenly a burst of light clouded over this being that flew out of the cauldron, dripping blood and other liquids. It unfurled itself from the foetal position to begin to raise its head. She tried to walk closer but ...._

She woke suddenly, breathing deeply, sweat dripping off her forehead, her heart pounding through her chest, a sickening feeling in her throat, eyes wide open. Was anyone else awake? Would they see? Would they hear her? She looked around her; they were sleeping.

She leaned back in her bed, her eyes watering up. She moved to the side of her bed to light a candle, she couldn't bear the dark. It scared her more than anything else. When she stayed with her father the house seemed to be enveloped in it, like a fog that didn't want to leave. She'd never quite dreamt like that. She'd seen murder and rape and torture and fire and burning and ritual sacrifices but never seen anyone coming out of them.

Tears started escaping her, dropping onto her duvet like spring bulbs opening up in the wilderness. She couldn't let this get to her. She wouldn't. It wasn't real. It was just a dream.

Just a dream where someone came out of a cauldron of blood.

She picked up the book she'd been reading before leaving the house the morning before. _Wuthering Heights_. She felt sorry for Cathy. She'd done nothing but marry someone who was there at the time and Heathcliff was trying to destroy her for love. Her eyes became distracted by the fire in the middle of the room. How the flames leapt and spat at each other. Was this all she would know; suffering.

She was woken hours later by Hermione. Hermione had heard someone breathing heavily in the night. She didn't bother to look, everyone has bad dreams. However it was now eight o'clock and she didn't think Anne would appreciate missing breakfast.

"Anne? Anne?"

She picked up the book on the floor, setting it next to Anne's candle.

"Wha? Wha?" She certainly did look funny in the mornings.

"Breakfast."

Anne eventually was ready, her hair more controlled, her robes adjusted to suit her. She was glad Hermione had waited for her. She didn't want to go down on her own with everyone else watching her. They still were nervous of her, less than last night but they still edged around her.

"Don't worry. They'll forget about it by tomorrow,"

If only she had Hermione's confidence. They sat next to the two boys again, both stuffing their faces with whatever food was to hand. Typical.

The first few lessons of the day went fairly smoothly. Nothing was blown up, no fires suddenly appeared, no one ended up on the roof, no windows were smashed. An oddly normal day. Just how Anne liked it. She could relax and enjoy herself. Harry and Ron were great fun but Hermione was brilliant to talk to and do work with. They quickly got noted as the brightest in the year, to the annoyance of the boys but what can you do?

Last lesson of the day was potions, something Anne was dreading. If she knew her father he would be anything but civil to her. she sat in the dungeons with Hermione and the others, dreading when her father would come in make her life the living hell it already was.

In he stormed, silencing the class without raising his voice. Impressive.

"There will be no wand waving in this class. As such ...."

Boring. She started to zone out now, not caring what he said. She started wondering what would happen if fairies and magical being suddenly jumped through the walls, redecorated it to look like a pixie kingdom and suddenly Snape was dancing along t the Happy Little Elves theme tune. She couldn't help but try to hide the growing smile on her face.

"... not paying attention."

She looked up innocently. It wasn't her he was looking at.

"Mr Potter," She turned to him. All he'd done was write down what her father had been saying. Was that a real crime?

The questioning began. Typical. Just to justify his own lack of superiority he would question Harry to death until he came up with something half decent before being told that was average.

"Miss Evans, would I be asking for a miracle if I told you to copy out the instructions on the board?" Slytherins sniggering in the corner, not believing their luck.

She silently started copying out the board before getting her equipment to start the antidote for Professor Snape. Sounded so sickly.

She watched the others as they started their potions. Most were alright, double checking every single instruction two or three times before adding an ingredient or stirring their potion. She saw Hermione competently achieve the midway stage in the potion while Harry and Ron lagged behind with the rest. She knew her father would soon come over to them, shake his head at them and move on. She didn't quite expect him however to be so biased towards his own house, awarding them points for simply setting up their cauldrons right while ripping away at her houses efforts for the tiniest mistake.

"Miss Evans can you read?" the blonde boy from yesterday now looking up at her.

"Yes,"

"Yes what?" raising his eyebrows at her in that condescending way he always did.

"Yes sir?" staring back at him, almost challenging him.

"Then you would note that the bee sting is the last thing you add to your potion. Why have you added it now?" the blonde boy hardly able to control himself.

"I didn't add it. I added a wasp sting which you've written can be added during the fourth stage. Are you sure you can read, sir?" milking every single minute she could.

"Fourty points from Gryffindor ..."

"What?"

"...for cheek, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

He leaned over her desk so that only she could hear him, the rage evident in his face.

"This is not how you will behave and if you continue it will be the last time you will ever be in my class. Detention tonight six o'clock here," raising this voice for the last sentence before walking off.

"What's that for?"

"Lack of respect. One more word and you will be moved out,"

The anger was just burning inside her. How could he get away with this? It was so unfair. The cheek for him to say that she had a lack of respect when he couldn't stand being with her in a house for a few weeks. Ha! He was doomed. He knew nothing about her. He knew absolutely nothing about her.

She finished making her potion, the injustice clear on her face. At the end of the class she filed up with the others to hand in her potion before packing up. She was last to hand hers in. He looked at it for a few seconds before moving back slightly in his chair before binning it.

"What was that for?"

"Inadequate potion making. If you will have read the board you will note that your homework was to research about wasp sting antidotes not to make one. Therefore this potion is useless," a small smile of self satisfaction crossing his face.

"Fine," shrugging her shoulders before walking back to her desk.

She looked down at her desk before noting a faint glow on her chest. Damm it. Did it always have to glow? She didn't quite want to explode anything, it wasn't quite the right time to do that. She looked over to her cauldron. Would it ....

Grabbing her bag she hurled the cauldron across the classroom, her potion spilling out onto the floor, a deafening BANG echoing across the dungeon. She looked up at Snape, glaring at him before storming out off the dungeon, Snape's voice reverberating behind her, "Professor McGonagall's office NOW!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" powering through the crowds of confused students.

She looked behind her. Snape was power walking behind her, his eyes ablaze with fury. Shit. She started running full pace, not entirely sure where she was going but hoping to God it was the right direction. She could hear him now, the heavy pounding on the floor, his robes flapping behind him as he gained speed.

Not bothering to knock she practically fell into McGonagall's office, taking the professor by surprise.

"Miss Evans, what on earth ..." before Severus appeared behind her, out of breath and fuming.

"This girl is a disgrace and a shame on her family," spitting out every word with venom.

"Big surprise,"

"I refuse to teach her again if she so dares as much breathes in my presence,"

"Fine. I don't want to be there."

"Perfect,"

A gentle knock on the door alerted them to the fact that so much noise was being made.

"Enter," McGonagall praying it was Albus. All this girl seemed to be was trouble and even she couldn't manage this much.

Dumbledore was not only bemused but slightly disappointed to see the scene he saw.

"Miss Evans, would you accompany Professor Snape and myself to my study," already opening the door for her, knowing her answer.

Okay so if she wasn't doomed yesterday today she was for definite. At least she had an idea what a normal life with friends and teachers who respected her felt like. Now at least she had something nice to dream about. Now she knew it wasn't just her that made her physco of a father mental, it was just himself. Pity.

She was starting to remember this room well know. She hadn't quite prepared for Dumbledore to be expecting her and Snape to be rowing and have to talk to them. Oh great, was this some sad attempt at therapy?

Sitting down reluctantly, she didn't bother looking at Snape. She wanted him to feel as guilty as possible. He deserved it. He was such an ...

"Now, before we have another scene like we've had today, would it be best to get any long held grudges and complaints in the open now so we don't have to worry about them bursting out later?"

No one answered. Bother knew the other didn't want to comment. Both had too much pride and face to stoop to being the whining whingeing brat the other was.

Dumbledore sighed. He had expected problems, it was only natural, but not on this scale of hate and loathing.

"I see. Then may I make it quite clear that though you too may have your differences this is a school. I would prefer for it to operate like that and not an extension for your continual battling."

"Yes sir," Snape merely nodding his head.

"Miss Evans, you will continue learning potions but will do so with good grace and forgetting any previous feelings for or against your father. I would also appreciate if you were not so in favour of your house during Miss Evans lessons,"

He stared back at them. It should have been perfect this. An opportunity to push aside the past. Why must it always be those who have the most to lose to have the strongest grudges?

After dismissing Anne, adding to the continual glares and slamming of doors, Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"Does she know?" his tone changing entirely.

"I think not," not enjoying this "therapy" session.

"It would of been better of course if ... but this does not need to make it more difficult," before dropping his voice so the portraits had to strain themselves to hear, "The incident on the train is common I understand,"

"She does have a tendency to become very ... emotional," smiling a little, pleased there was still a chance of her leaving.

Dumbledore moved away to the back of the room, his mind at work. "If something on that scale was ever to happen again, I would fear for her and Harry's safety."

********************************

Anne didn't bother waiting around. She still had to grab dinner before detention. Luckily the hall was almost empty but unluckily most of the food had already gone. Wolfing down what she could, she finished dinner before heading back to the dungeons. She'd heard Snape, she wasn't going to think of him as her father anymore, gave really nasty detentions and wasn't looking forward to discovering whether that was true or not.

She sat in the classroom, waiting for him to arrive. Slowly, the clock moved forward in time. She was moving nowhere. After half an hour she gave up. Why she'd even bothered coming perplexed her enough. She couldn't be bothered wasting her evenings after a man she knew failed her again and again.

She only made as far as the door before, in true style, Snape whipped out of his supply closet.

"Sit down," he hissed, sitting himself down at his desk.

"Thought you'd come for my sake?" throwing her bag on the desk again.

"Believe it or not the world does not revolve around you and your pathetic little life," he snapped back. He would have shocked her had he not said this many times before. He glided his way to her, passing her some parchment. "Lines I thought. I must learn to respect my father and keep my mouth shut. Two hundred times. For good measure." Before moving back to his place.

"You're not gonna get rid of me, you know," taking up her quill to start before putting it down again. "What have you got against me?" she asked, perfectly honest and sincere.

"Your lack of manners, respect, control to name a few,"

"No but seeing as you've spent only a year of your life collectively with me I'd have thought you'd be grateful to spend some quality time with your daughter."

He had to stop himself from saying he wasn't her father. He'd love to see the look on her face. "I did it for your own good. Whether to you chose to make use of that or not is up to you but do not blame your failings on me."

"'Cause you always face your problems don't you."

He looked up at her finally. Her eyes firing at him, her lips clamped together, her hands not shaking. "I have always have tried to be a fair and ..."

"Let's just cut the crap, you don't care whether I live or die, let's be honest 'cause as soon as I'm gone you can get back to pathetic little life again whether you liked it or not. So don't try and say you care about me 'cause we both know the truth."


	8. Chapter 8:Memories

**Summary**: Anne's life continues into her Second Year

I know I'm skipping a few years but the main story is off in the future so please be patient. Also this doesn't follow strictly what happens in the book but allow a little dramatic license please.

Sorry for the delay. Started Sixth Form so updates will be slower but **PLEASE KEEP READING AND REVIEWING!!! Reviewers ROCK!!!**

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This was how their relationship continued. He would annoy her, she would insult him, she'd be threatened then retaliate but he would never hurt her.

Strange. His father had always beaten, even when he'd something well. It always seemed to annoy his father knowing he could do something the other couldn't. He'd always vowed to get his revenge whenever he cold. Here he had a perfect opportunity. His own rag doll to rip to shreds.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't bear to touch her. He couldn't bear to touch this angel that had destroyed his love his beauty his sweetheart. He'd watch from dinner; laughing, joining in with others game, always smiling, always looking back at him. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to hurt her badly, so badly she would never walk, never look at him again without being reminded of it.

Every other teacher loved her though. She was someone who just got on with the work, didn't ask unnecessary questions, the perfect student. She'd look up to him when she was commended at dinner by other teachers. He never looked up. Never smiled. Never nodded in recognition. Never even glowered at her. Simply ignored her.

She hated him. She hated him so much for burning her. Not literally but it felt like that. Everything would go alright, she'd smile, make friends, do work, jump around a lot, be normal. Then she would make the twice weekly trip down to the dungeons before being shouted at for an hour and never once be given an apology or reason for it. She'd scream back, of course. She'd learned not to back down ages ago. She'd fight for her corner, spitting back everything he threw at her until she knew he couldn't say anything without giving away the nature of their relationship other than teacher student. It almost gave her pleasure to know she would wind him up so tight but that he could never release it on her full blow without it being noticed by anyone else (she'd had a sneaking suspicion that Snape hadn't told any of the other teachers apart from Dumbledore about her upbringing).

This is not saying that her life was "normal". She was still shunned the majority of the time, talking only when spoken to by other students, keeping out of the way of anyone who'd give her any form of grief. She'd avoided the blonde boy she'd met on the train or at least never spoken to him since. He'd given her several looks at her and she'd returned them happily. He'd live. Just.

Summer came and went again before by July it was time to leave. She'd packed her bags, being given the instructions by Professor McGonagall not to leave with the others for the train. Great. Another "school" to go to. She hadn't expected anything different. She'd of been surprised if that wasn't the case. After the year of nightmares she'd given her father she was surprised she wasn't being packed off for good (although that could still happen, she never doubted her father over this).

After the usual partings and goodbyes and promises to keep in touch, she was left alone. It was nice having the common room to herself for once. She normally stayed in one of the alcoves next to windows. It was nice to see the mountains around the school. It almost made everything seem like a dream instead of reality. She almost wished it was. Then she wouldn't have to return to her unpredictable future.

She slumped herself down on the biggest sofa, leaving her bags next to the fire, forgetting the Chocolate Frogs that would inevitably melt to a gooey stick end. Smiling at herself, she turned to the ceiling, wondering how the house elves would get chewing gum of it without falling to their doom.

A deafening slam of the portal door reawakened her to reality.

"Naturally I assume you are being your usual lazy idle self," Snape reeled off, avoiding her gaze at him.

"No just wondering when you were going to pack me off," watching him pace around the common room, taking in every detail from the curtains to the carpets. "I must say though I'd have thought you'd of got rid of me first week but we all have our weakness'" smiling back at him, enjoying twisting him up again.

"Surprising as it is, the Headmaster unfortunately believes you have some talent her. Whether or not I agree is another matter," heading to the door before looking back at her. Why did she always have to look so innocent when he insulted her? "I was hoping on leaving within the hour but by all means take your time."

"Where are we going?"

"My house."

Holy Shit (if such a thing existed).

She followed him blind, still reeling in shock. She was going home with him. She was not being sent off. She was going ... well, not home but the nearest thing to that.

She watched him as they walked down the hill to Hogsmead (him walking, her running behind him). He seemed almost uncaring, as if he was whipped of emotion to leave this cold empty shell that was him. When she took his hand to Apparate, he almost seemed human, as if he might smile. Maybe that was wishful thinking as it soon fell off to reveal a sneer as they fell into his living room.

It hadn't changed much since the previous summer except a layer of dust over everything.

"You will be staying in the upstairs part of the house. Several ... friends may enter here and I don't want them falling over you," looking down at the tangled heap that was his "daughter".

He swept away into the kitchen, leaving her to pick herself up. She'd learn soon enough. He just wanted to delay a little while, sighing as he pulled out a mug from the cupboard opposite to make a herbal. God he'd need it.

**********************************

Lucius Malfoy had a strange idea of fun. He enjoyed mainly drinking, brooding over the past and manipulating people with the occasional blackmail. So spending an evening with Severus was the perfect change of scenery (except for the brooding).

He'd arrived fashionable late (as usual), clad in black robes with a hint of Slytherin green. He entered the house, making a mental note to destroy anything remotely similar in his own home.

"I understand Dumbledore had now employed Gilderoy Lockhart as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," setting down his goblet of Elf made wine.

"True," his temper already leaping up.

"Such a shame. He will of course be gone by the end of the year though. I wouldn't worry," smiling back at Severus.

Anne was of course listening to the others ignorance. The first week of the holidays she had stayed upstairs to the shock of bother her and Snape. By the second week she spent most of her time in the garden, hiding at the back behind the Pine trees 'til she was called back in. The rest of her time had been divided between her rooms, the garden and the deserted Muggle car parks where she could practise flying. She wasn't in the Quidditch team yet but she was determined to change that. She'd returned that evening tired out but happy she'd flown well before being practically thrown upstairs by her father before a visitor arrived. She'd looked out of her window to watch out for, catching only a black hood with a wisp of silver blonde hair. She seen this figure before many times during the holidays but in the last few days, the visits and duration this person would stay increased. She felt slightly uneasy, as if her intestines were pulling themselves out of her. It felt weird that someone else had such control over her father that wasn't just doing it out of hate but because her wanted this person here.

She sat on the stairs, her ear pressed up against the crack in the wall, straining to overhear the conversation.

She moved over to the hole in the wall she been making over the past week, peeling off the final layer of wallpaper, showering herself with sprinkles off dust. It was quite a bit larger than intended but it did the job. She put her eye to the hole. Before the fireplace sat her father and the stranger.

She moved back fast, terrified, her breathing stopping in her throat before returning to her. It was the man from the train station. The same man with the same clothes, the same gloves placed delicately on the side table, the same black cane lying next to him. Her head reeled inside her. Why was he here? She had to move closer.

She stood up, the stairs creaking beneath her, knowing they would be heard as she moved to the banister to slide down, making sure her jeans were pulled over her pants. Landing on the floor, another creaking floorboard welcoming her to downstairs, she looked to the living room door. Locked. Good.

She turned to her right into the library or study as her father preferred. Snape had installed many weeks ago a phonograph that the dual operation of overhearing conversations in the rest of the house, something he'd used extensively in the past. Smiling slightly as she put her ear to the bell of it, she leaned in.

"I gather you have the necessary article I require," slithered the stranger's voice.

A pause. "I do," a hint of hesitancy in her father's voice.

"May I?" dropping in volume.

Another pause. What was going on? She could hear a shuffling around and draws being opened. How long would this go on for?

"Oh Severus." Hello? "How on earth did you ...?"

"I have several sources which I would like to remain secret, as ..."

"Of course, I wouldn't dare," man not caring obviously, probably to enamoured with the thing Snape had got him. "Another drink perhaps?" A hint of excitement in his voice.

"One minute," a door being opened.

Shit!

She jumped out her seat, hurling herself behind the bookcase next to the back door. Why wouldn't it open? She stopped in time to hear the library door being opened up.

Please don't come here. Please don't come here. Please don't come here. Please don't come here. She could hear the man's steps coming closer and closer towards her, taking it's time before turning his head towards her.

He looked her up and down. Dear God. It was her. It had to be. He couldn't imagine anyone else at all. There she was. An exact copy. The same fear in her eyes, the same tense shoulders, that same sweet mouth.

He moved towards her, Anne backing into the wall, her heart caught in her mouth. He glided his hand up towards her jaw, moving it slowly down towards her lips before circling them.

Severus had returned to the empty living room, panicking immediately. He'd find her again. He knew he would. It wasn't too difficult. She was always getting in the way. He darted into the library, Lucius' fingers over Anne's frozen lips, Lucius turnin his head towards him.

"You didn't introduce us,"


	9. Chapter 9: Colours of a Kind

**Summary**: Anne and Severus reveal some more tension in their relationship

Sorry for the delay. Sixth form's started (A levels BIG exams) so updates my be slow (duh?)

_You know you wanna review it. GO FOR IT!_

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"Get out,"

She turned to Snape. He was glaring at her.

She slide out from the strangers arms that had ensnared her. She turned to her father. He looked down at her, a trace of disgust in his eyes.

She'd failed. She knew it. It wasn't even her fault. If that man had stayed in the living room she would have been fine. He would never have ...

What was it with him? He'd looked at her like that before. At the train station. The same misty eyed look as if he knew her when he so didn't. How was she going to explain this one? She knew it was sort of her fault but she _hated_ not knowing what was going on. She hated being treated like a child or some plague that must stay out of the way. She could feel her blood boiling, her hands starting to shake. No. Control yourself. You'll never get away with this otherwise.

She sat in her room for hours. She heard the front door slam after a few moments, the windows open and close as she guessed owls were being sent to Hogwarts asking for her to be removed. She almost felt bad. She did. It _was_ her fault this time. She didn't listen. She was stuck with the conviction that Snape was bad and never cared about her; which was true. He never talked to her at mealtimes, just stared at her until she left to go upstairs.

She kicked out at the desk of draws opposite before instantly regretting it, the pain shooting up her leg. She hugged it to her chest, kissing her knee. Idiot.

A knock on the door alerted her.

He didn't wait for her to answer him he simply strolled in, sitting on her bed, their backs facing each other.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," her voice drifting off as she looked up. He just stared at her, disappointment clear on his face.

"Do you know why you have never been here before for such time?" She didn't reply. "You have a habit of ... being emotional." How could he say that? "You have too much .. energy." Because you have _so_ much energy yourself, "You cannot control yourself from being ... an ..."

"Accident?" Furious with him for even complaining about her. If he wanted her out he could just do what he always did.

"You need to learn that some things ... you need to be controlled in a safe environment where ..."

"If you want me be to be safe then tell me who the hell that man is?" turning to face him head on, him still staring at her wardrobe.

"I didn't think you would be mature enough ..."

"Try me." He stopped, his mouth half open ready to spit back at her childish remarks. He could try her. He could watch her face contort and shake with tears. He could watch her fall from her high perch to the lowly heap she should have been left to, her eyes piercing his as he tried to bring it up. No. She shook her head, tears leaping off her cheeks to the faded carpet beneath them. "Don't bother," starting to leave him, desperate to get away from him, from everything he was and did.

"I'm sorry ..."

"NO, you're never sorry. You're never sorry for anything!" screaming at him so loudly the shelves above her drawer fell down, a puff of smoke popping out. "You don't think, you don't care ..."

"I care very much," his voice becoming deeper, more angry, more desperate, watching her storm out of her room.

He followed her out, fear leaping out in front of him. "DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Why not?" whipping her head round with such speed she lost her footing.

He could see her, her legs crumbling beneath her, her arms flying up, reaching out for nothing as her head hit every single before slamming the floor, her scream reaching the roof as rafters fell down across the stairs, the final spark escaping her finger tips. His mouth hung open as he watched her fall and scream and cry and shriek as she shut her eyes, afraid of what was going to happen, dust filling the air.

He hurtled his way towards her, clambering over rafters and wooden beams that had fallen over his pathway.

"Anne? ANNE!"

Cradling her face in his hands, he moved his face next to hers so they were touching, the first time since she was a child. He shuddered as tears entered his eyes, flooding out onto her face, his fingers feeling the blood seep onto his skin.

He made his way to pick her up, still holding onto her head, as if she was a doll or a flower crushed underneath a storm.

He laid her out on the sofa, her face draining of blood as if it were ice cold. She was still breathing, only just, but her lips parted as air rushed into her lungs. He sighed in relief. It wasn't over yet. She hadn't used magic like that for a year, Dumbledore had made sure she didn't become too emotional, but it had never hurt her before, only other people. Why was she becoming so self destructive all of a sudden?

He went back to the library, pulling out of cabinets various potions and ointments needed. He could hear her as she tried to breathe deeply, a crackling in her voice as she spluttered and coughed.

He ran back to her. Don't let me lose her. Not after all this time.

She was raised onto her elbows, the damage to her becoming more evident as he saw her white blouse soaked in blood at the back, splinters and chippings of wood sticking out of her back.

"Here," handing over a vial of Blood Replenishing potion. God she needed it.

She swallowed it in one, gasping for breath afterwards, her shoulders heaving as oxygen filled her body. He simply handed the vials over to her, each one being drunk quicker until it was almost a blur of actions. She seemed almost desperate, as if she couldn't hold onto herself. His hands moved towards her blouse, lifting the back up to see the damage. She looked back at him, half out of fear, half of acceptance. She was used to being manhandled after such events. At least she was conscious this time.

His hands started to move over her, her skin practically peeling off as he smoothed the ointments over her cuts and bruises. How could so much destruction happen in so little time?

She shivered as he moved up her back, her breathe being caught up before released. She didn't even know why she was mad that time? She'd never been ... pathetic emotional. She'd always got mad for standing up for herself. Now she was just sad. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as Snape reached her shoulders, the pain rising from shoulders into her neck and eyes. She screwed her face up, trying to hide the pain. She was a useless actress and an even worse liar. She gulped for breath as the ointment seeped into her wounds, the agony growing as she shook her head fiercely, failing to ignore it.

A hand cupped her neck. She stopped. It was steady, calm, protective. She stared at the carpet, taking in every detail, the black diamonds, the faded dark green background with the raven and serpent crest in the foreground, the tiny blood stains in front of the fire place, a wine stain hidden discreetly underneath the oak armchairs.

"It's alright," the hand releasing her neck. She turned to him, Snape already standing up as he collected together the vials and potions he'd brought out.

He didn't say anything but he didn't need to. He returned the vials and bottles, keeping an ear out to listen to Anne, her heavy breathing slowing down to normal. She was still there when he returned, her slender fingers lightly gripping the edge of the sofa, her head hung down low. She almost knew, as if she could read him before he could make up his mind what to say.

"I will inform Professor Dumbledore of this, incident. Go and rest." He wanted to help her, but somehow, he seemed to stay grounded, doomed to watch as she tried to stand up, her legs shaking as she brushed past him towards the door.

"Stay here," Anne turning. What did he want? "Stay here. Sleep on the sofa."

He seemed almost calm, gentle even. She couldn't quite understand. She tried to speak but it all flooded over her.

She slumped down on the sofa, still clinging onto the wooden frame, afraid it o let it go, her legs shaking so much she could feel the vibrations running up her body.

Her blouse had ripped across her left shoulder. She looked over to it. She could see the blood drying, the dirt and splinters sticking deep inside her, the muscles glimpsing from beneath. She shuddered, her neck clipping the wound, her hair sticking to it, causing more pain.

She could just see the lights appearing, sparkling like they did when she'd have those temper tantrums as a child; just softly floating above her, turning pink, purple no orange. She smiled. she almost wanted to reach out and touch them, like some stupid five year old. They fading now, stepping back into the dark, leaving her alone again. In cold. In darkness.

NO! Don't go now!

She almost wanted to scream out. She could feel the weight of her head easing forwards, her eyes shaking with fear.

Darkness.


End file.
